TO BE

On Friday, March 15, 2024 at 1:15 pm Janis died.

We had a graveside service. (Later in April we had, what has become known as a celebration of life, at the Legion Hall in our hometown of Mechanic Falls. The turnout was overwhelming), It was a bright day at the graveside, but windy. Very windy. I arranged for a Buddhist service, not because I belong to any particular religion, but because I find Zen Buddhist psychology a more reasonable and palatable way of life. A way of acknowledging our human existence…and death. Janis also subscribed to this as an acceptable way of believing or at least, accepting, the life that she was given.

Basho, a 17th century Japanese poet, offered this invitation to see, that some have lived and struggled through a different life than we may have had: “Come, see real flowers of this painful world.” A while ago, I ran across another use of this metaphor of a flower in a poem by William Carlos Williams, “Saxifrage is my flower that splits rocks.” Of course, I had to look up the word saxifrage; it’s Latin meaning, breaking rocks. That felt more like Janis. She floundered through a grim childhood and worked every day to stay afloat. Most did not see that side, that ‘darkness visible’, but I did. She was that flower who split rocks her entire life, sometimes just to get up in the morning. Someone said, getting up in the morning not to push the rock over the top of the hill, but just to push the rock up the hill. My role was to be… Just to be. Not a martyr but a friend, a human being who would not abandon her. The humane thing to do. Besides, I love breaking rules. There is nothing martyr about that! It was a choice I made. It is my koan for life. And I can be a stubborn bastard when it feels like the right thing to do. (Well…yeah, usually. That is, on my good days; mostly. Sometimes. Usually around lunchtime. In the morning; or sometimes late afternoon, um, sometimes before bedtime…).

In life there is pain but there is also love and hope.

Today I’m still working at acceptance. Acceptance that I can’t jump in my car and go to her unit to visit her, hold her hand. Acceptance that though I’m surrounded by friends and family (especially my grandchildren), I still feel alone. There’s a hole in my life now. That so-called self-sacrificing role is exposed as a sneaky two-way street. I was getting so much from my visits with Janis in her Unit for the past few years–indeed, for my life, that I’m coming to understand that this new now is the rest of my life. Whatever happens next, it will be without her here. I can do this. In fact, I am doing it. My plan is to be the best-damned grampa I can be. Every child deserves a grandparent! And though I do totter a bit more these days, I’m fortunate to be in pretty good health. My days, and nights, are improving. I’m able to take my grandchildren on walks (my grandkids tolerate my blabberings “Be careful!” and that old standard grandkids just love to hear, “What?”). I see friends regularly for coffee and monthly breakfast with our OFBC . (You know who you are). My adult children are checking in on me regularly.

All is well.

I’m getting back to writing. It grounds me in ways that nothing else comes close to in providing some avenue for my introverted solitude. This blog has been neglected for months, or longer. And the novel I had started has been on hold, the character’s frozen in time, waiting to find out what they will become and where they will go. Stephen King cautioned that letting your characters linger, leaves them to become cardboard-like. I haven’t reached that point…yet. But it’s time to get back to them. (Scroll down, all the way down).

keep going

The sun is out. I’m on call to pick up Cam at her daycare this afternoon and meet Brin for the school bus later. I’m on my third cup of coffee (which I just discovered was lukewarm, yuck) and getting ready to make lunch for myself. Beans I think. Yes, canned. I’m disinclined to cook meals.